Nobody reads my shit wah x 17 anyway. ;) I like it like this way. Our secrets.
Background music. Follow along. Feel the groove.
While we read.
As a complement to feeling of mood. Or & some damn good food.
Cook while we can.
-26 degrees windchills.
Multitasking. Baking chili. Recipe rocks. Just like the album & da book, leftovers keep on giving.
Many things. This gets tough. This is the non-work we do.
Stomach rolls. ~15 Bean campfire Mel bursts. Have we had enough. Cannot stop laughing. Dancing. Reading. Voting. Caring. Plastic bag gassing & urinating.
Keep dancing.
Now read.
"The earth seemed unearthly. We are
accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a
conquered monster, but there - there you could
look at a thing monstrous and free. It was
unearthly, and the men were --- No, they were
not inhuman. Well, you know, that was the
worst of it -- this suspicion of their not being
inhuman. It would come slowly to me. They
howled, and leaped, and spun, and made horrid
faces; but what thrilled you was just the
thought of their humanity -- like yours -- the
thought of the remote kinship with this wild
and passionate uproar. Ugly. Yes, it was ugly
enough; but if you were man enough you would
admit to yourself that there was in you just the
faintest trace of a response to the terrible
frankness of that noise, a dim suspicion of there
being a meaning in it which you --- you so
remote from the night of first ages --- could
comprehend. And why not? The mind of man is
capable of anything* --- because everything is in
it, all the past as well as all the future. What
was there after all? ---but truth---truth stripped
of its cloak of time. Let the fool gape and
shudder --- the man knows, and can look on
without a wink. But he must at least be as much
of a man as these on the shore. He must meet
that truth with his own true stuff --- with his
own inborn strength. Principles? Principles
won't do. Aquisitions, clothes, pretty rags ---rags
that would fly off at the first good shake. No;
you want a deliberate belief. An appeal to me in
this fiendish row---is there? Very well; I hear, I
admit, but I have a voice too, and for good or
evil mine is the speech that cannot be silenced.
Of course, a fool, what with sheer fright and fine
sentiments, is always safe. Who's that grunting?
You wonder I didn't go ashore for a howl and a
dance? Well, no---I didn't. Fine sentiments, you
say? Fine sentiments be hanged! I had no time. I
had to mess around with white-lead and strips
of wollen blanket helping to put bandages on
those leaky steampipes---I tell you. I had to
watch the steering, and circumvent those snags,
and get the tin-pot along by hook or by crook.
There was surface-truth enough in these things
to save a wiser man. And between whiles I had
to look after the savage who was fireman. He
was an improved specimen; he could fire up a
vertical boiler. He was there below me, and,
upon my word, to look at him was as edifying as
seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a
feather hat, walking on his hind legs. A few
months of training had done for that really fine
chap. He squinted at the steam-gauge and at
the water-gauge with an evident effort of
intrepidity---and he had filed teeth too, the
poor devil, and the wool of his pate shaved into
queer patterns, and three ornamental scars on
each of his cheeks. He ought to have been
clapping his hands and stomping his feet on the
bank, instead of which he was hard at work, a
thrall to strange witchcraft, full of improving
knowledge. He was useful because he had been
instructed; and what he knew is this--that
should the water in that transparent thing
disappear, the evil spirit inside the boiler would
get angry through the greatness of his thirst,
and take a terrible vengeance. So he sweated
and fired up and watched the glass fearfully
(with an impromptu charm, made of rags, tied
to his arm, and a piece of polished bone, as big
as a watch, stuck flatways through his lower lip),
while the wooded banks slipped past us slowly,
the short noise was left behind, the
interminable miles of silence---and we krept on
towards Kurtz. But the snags were thick, the
water was treacherous and shallow, the boiler
seemed indeed to have a sulky devil in it, and
thus neither the fireman nor I had any time to
peer in our creepy thoughts."